


Reset, Restart

by flecksofpoppy



Series: A Little Faith-verse Companion Pieces [12]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A Little Faith-verse, Alternate Universe - 1990s, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Gift Fic, Hand & Finger Kink, Mild Humiliation, Reibert - Freeform, Restraints, SSC, Shameless Smut, Spanking, kink positive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertolt's having a frustrating day, and Reiner helps him unwind. Set in ALF-verse post-foursome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reset, Restart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hachidorikun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hachidorikun/gifts).



> Shameless ALF-verse Reibert smut written for someone who was having a bad day. <3

Bertolt’s standard emotional scale is usually tipped by major events in his life. He doesn’t tend to harp on petty issues, since there’s always been much bigger things to worry about.

Today, however, Bertolt Hoover-Braun is officially pissed off.

“You,” he says, pointing toward the new desk that Reiner has somehow managed to jigsaw into the living room, “make no sense and are pointless.”

The computer’s dark monitor just sits there and doesn’t respond.

“Marco is usually right about suggestions to make life easier,” Bertolt continues, scowling at the unresponsive and maddeningly confusing machine, “but when he said it was worth getting you, he didn’t mention that you were an asshole.”

Bertolt makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m taking you back to the store,” he grumbles. “The library is fine. I don’t care if it’s a mile walk.”

The computer doesn’t look impressed.

The front door suddenly swings open, and Bertolt jumps and whirls around.

“Who’s here?” Reiner asks as he sticks his head in, looking baffled. “Are you talking to someone?”

“No!” Bertolt immediately blurts out.

Reiner stops where he is and stares skeptically, raising an eyebrow. His eyes dart from Bertolt around the room, before landing on the computer.

Trying to keep things from Reiner these days is a lost cause.

“Were you...” He clears his throat, both eyebrows raised now. “Um, Bertl?”

“Yes!” Bertolt admits, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I was talking to the computer.”

He falls into a chair and crosses his arms, aware that he’s acting like a child, but so aggravated he doesn’t even care. 

“You can’t figure it out?” Reiner guesses.

Bertolt sighs, and shakes his head.

“Why don’t you take one of those classes at the library?”

One of Bertolt’s newfound pet peeves is that he doesn’t like to feel stupid. It’s as if all the indifference toward it over the years has come out in a matter of only a few months since he enrolled in culinary school and had some major realizations.

“Okay,” Reiner says decisively when Bertolt doesn’t respond to the helpful suggestion, “come on.”

He offers his hand, and Bertolt sighs wearily before accepting and following Reiner into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re stressed out,” Reiner guesses, sitting down behind Bertolt to rub his shoulders. “Is this only about the computer?”

Bertolt frowns and shrugs minutely; Reiner doesn’t push him, and just keeps massaging the kinks out of his neck and shoulders with strong, steady hands.

“I got a B in one of my classes,” he finally blurts out. “And I’m apparently too stupid to use a computer.”

Reiner’s arms wrap around him from behind in a tight hug. “You’re not stupid,” he says quietly. “And I’m sure you deserved an A.”

Bertolt has to admit that it’s easier to assume he’s really awful at something, rather than be somewhere in the middle. It’s hard to admit talent, but almost harder to tolerate flaws.

“I really didn’t. I almost burned down the classroom.”

Of all the possible responses he’s expecting from Reiner, laughter isn’t one of them; but it’s a warm sound, a vibration against his neck, followed by a kiss. And finally, Bertolt laughs a little, too.

“It’s just been one of those weeks, huh?” Reiner says. “It’ll pass, right?”

Bertolt gives a frustrated little huff, but he knows it’s true. Living this kind of life—with expectations and a small seedling of confidence—is a lot more challenging than he ever imagined.

“Wait a second,” Reiner says, dropping to his knees to peer under the bed. When he reemerges, he’s retrieved one of Bertolt’s favorite things, and some of the frustration dissipates. It’s still there, though, gnawing at the edges of his psyche—a nervous hum that won’t completely go away.

“You in the mood?” Reiner asks, setting the beloved box of sex toys down on the bed.

Bertolt sighs, nodding his head. “Please.”

“Would you feel better if I made you cry?”

“Probably,” Bertolt replies, a smile creeping into his voice. “Are _you_ in the mood?”

Reiner answers him by giving his ass a light slap. 

“Get undressed,” he says in a low voice, “and get on the bed with your legs spread for me.”

Bertolt immediately groans. It’s so easy for Reiner to slip into character now; it’s almost like second nature at this point.

“Are we using ‘red, yellow, green,’ or ‘colossal?’” Bertolt immediately asks.

Reiner chuckles a little as he pulls away. “Your call. Although, since dealing with middle ground seems to be posing a problem right now, why don’t we go with some variation.”

“Okay,” Bertolt nods in agreement, already moving to pull his shirt over his head. 

Reiner disappears into the other room, and Bertolt strips down quickly, throwing his clothes disdainfully into a pile on the floor.

He practically jumps onto the bed, curling up against Reiner’s side with a smile as he inhales; it’s comforting in a way nothing else ever could be.

When the door opens again, Reiner comes in and Bertolt’s mouth almost waters.

He’s only wearing a pair of tight boxer-briefs, staring at Bertolt just as hard as Bertolt is staring at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to spread your legs?” he asks calmly.

Bertolt practically squeaks as he immediately spreads his legs apart, and Reiner shakes his head. “Too late for that now,” he says grimly, and Bertolt can see a smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t break character, though. “Get on your stomach and spread your legs so I can see your hole.”

Bertolt groans and shivers, turning onto his stomach and spreading his knees apart eagerly, lifting his ass slightly into the air.

He feels Reiner’s strong, steady hand smooth up his back slowly. There’s a gentle press against his shoulder blades, and then Reiner climbs on the bed, holding him there.

Bertolt’s entire body twitches when he hears a bottle of lube click open—undoubtedly one-handed, since Reiner still has a palm pressed gently against Bertolt’s back—and then there’s the touch of fingers that trail between his buttocks.

“Don’t move,” Reiner instructs. Bertolt feels a soft kiss at the base of his spine, and then another, slowly moving up his back. “Keep your legs apart.”

Bertolt whines, but doesn’t argue, trying not to tremble as Reiner pushes his fingers forward to stroke at Bertolt’s entrance as the kisses continue up his spine.

“Mm, Bertl,” Reiner hums, kissing at the back of Bertolt’s shoulder while still moving his fingers, his arm outstretched, “your skin is so soft. This punishment is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, I think.”

Bertolt moans, flexing his back, but he obeys Reiner and doesn’t move from the position he’s currently in.

He quashes a disappointed sound that tries to emerge from his throat when Reiner’s fingers disappear, and then to his surprise, he feels Reiner indicating he should roll over.

“Wow,” he says as soon as he sees what Reiner’s holding, blinking in surprise.

“Is that a yes?” Reiner asks, the cock ring dangling from one finger.

“Yes,” Bertolt grins, nodding his head. “And the restraints?”

“Of course.”

Bertolt’s already half hard, so getting the ring on isn’t too much of a fiasco, but by the time the restraints are on, he’s panting. They’re his favorite—a pair of leg cuffs that buckle around his upper thighs, with attached leather handcuffs that keep his arms straight at his sides so he can’t bend them. They restrict movement to the point where his arms start to hurt if he tenses his muscles too much, and Reiner basically has to maneuver him.

“Ah,” he lets out a harsh cry as Reiner gives his cock a few firm, even strokes, coating it in lube. “Oh god,” he groans, arching his back as he feels his face contort.

“That’s better,” Reiner practically purrs. “All spread out for me.” He kneels next to Bertolt, tenderly brushing the hair out of his eyes. “What do you think you look like?”

“I...” Bertolt gasps, not expecting the demand to describe himself. “I... can’t close my legs,” he whispers, “or move my arms, and my cock is... Reiner—”

Reiner gives his cock a few slow strokes, and Bertolt keens. He’s become painfully aroused very quickly, and there’s nothing he can do about it. His cock is practically aching, slick with lube; when he sneaks a look down, the tip is oozing precome and swollen.

“My cock aches,” he whimpers.

“Good,” Reiner says firmly, and then bends to suck at one of Bertolt’s nipples.

Bertolt tries not to shake as his entire body is torturously stimulated, an increasingly desperate feeling of needing release creeping over him. The nipple Reiner is biting and sucking is starting to feel sore, and his cock is so heavy and hard he feels like he’s going to cry. His arms jerk at his restraints to no avail, and the metal bindings rattle slightly.

Reiner draws back finally, but doesn’t stop stroking; he very carefully increases the pressure of his fist, and Bertolt lets out half a sob.

“Now,” Reiner says, as if he’s talking about making a grocery list, “you should’ve listened to me when I told you to spread your legs in the first place. Right, Bertolt?”

“Yes,” Bertolt shudders, trying not to cry, even though he’s looking forward to it when it happens. “I’m sorry.”

Reiner lets go of his cock, and the bed bounces slightly as he pulls away to retrieve something else from the box.

Bertolt doesn’t know whether to be terrified or excited, although for him, the two usually go hand in hand. He wiggles his hips a little, desperate for friction, but it only succeeds in making his cock slap against his stomach wetly, causing more agony.

And then he draws a sharp breath in when he sees what Reiner has in his hand.

He takes a breath to get his head in order, but then nods his consent.

“Use them.”

The wicked grin Reiner is giving him is downright demonic, but he’s very careful as he opens one of the nipple clamps. He fastens the first one on the nipple he hadn’t been teasing.

Bertolt’s breath catches as he screws his eyes shut, his mouth falling open in a silent wail.

The other one is even worse, and he moans desperately as the clamp closes against his sore nipple.

“Oh god,” is all he can manage to murmur. “Oh god...”

“Bertl,” Reiner says in concern.

“Green,” Bertolt gasps, nodding his head in ascent. 

Reiner’s look of slight worry disappears, and the grin returns. “Now,” he says, “do you think you’ve been punished enough for ignoring me before?”

“No,” Bertolt whispers, biting his lip. He can feel a few tears track down his cheeks, and a feeling of absolute ecstasy washes through him with the release.

“You need to be spanked,” Reiner declares bluntly, and without further explanation, moves to grasp both Bertolt’s legs together, brace a forearm under his knees, and bend his legs back.

His voice rips out of his throat as Reiner gives the nipple rings a slight tug, pulling at his chest.

Just as he’s about to breathe out a shrill curse, the breath gets caught in his throat as there’s a light slap against on side of his ass, and then the other. The slaps only sting mildly—more surprising than painful—but Bertolt knows what’s coming. This is also one of the most painful positions to be spanked in.

“Count them,” Reiner growls. “You get ten with my hand in this position, and five with the paddle bent over my knee.”

He lands another slap against one of Bertolt’s buttocks, and receives a sharp cry of pain for his efforts.

“ _Count_ ,” he demands.

“One,” Bertolt sniffles, teary-eyed. There’s another sharp slap, and he yelps. “ _Two._ ”

By the time Reiner’s at nine with just his hand, Bertolt can barely speak through the tears.

“Ten,” he practically screams as Reiner lands one last, harsh smack against his ass. The final number is followed directly by a harsh, “ _Yellow_.”

Reiner immediately lets his legs go and undoes one of the cuffs to let his hand free, holding onto it.

“You want me to untie you?” he asks.

Bertolt clears his throat and catches his breath, but shakes his head.

“Just give me a minute,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I guess I’m not as much of a masochist as I thought,” he says, laughing weakly.

Reiner smiles at him tenderly, and stretches out to take Bertolt’s hand. He kisses the palm and twines their fingers together.

“No paddle,” he says, kissing Bertolt’s forehead.

Bertolt takes a deep breath, and nods. “Okay,” he says, “just no more spanking.”

“Okay,” Reiner says softly, and then slides his hand down to Bertolt’s hip. His erection is flagging, and Reiner plays with the head carefully, earning a sharp gasp.

“That’s good?”

“Green,” Bertolt sighs. He draws his eyebrows together and hisses breath as his cock immediately springs to life, and his back arches, hips pushing forward toward Reiner’s hand.

Reiner leans over to refasten the cuff around his wrist, and then gets to work.

“Open your mouth,” he says, his voice back to that predatory growl that makes Bertolt’s stomach flip. 

Bertolt opens his mouth obediently, and then Reiner pushes three fingers in. “Suck,” he says.

Bertolt sucks at Reiner’s fingers, tasting the salt of his own precome on them, and moans in his throat.

Reiner gets close and kisses at the base of his neck, and then starts to suck. Bertolt knows his intent to leave a mark, and there’s no protest. It’s low enough so that if Bertolt is wearing a t-shirt, he won’t draw attention at work, but if he turns the wrong way it might show.

He moans as he feels Reiner’s teeth and lips alternately sucking and kissing, and then he pulls his fingers out of Bertolt’s mouth.

“You taste your own come?” he whispers, drawing away with a wet sound. He moves to bite gently at Bertolt’s earlobe, sliding his hand back to down to stroke his cock again. “Did you like sucking it off my fingers?” he exhales almost inaudibly, pushing his tongue against the shell of Bertolt’s ear.

Bertolt shivers and whines, before forcing out a shaky, “Y-yeah.”

“Tell me it tasted good,” he says very softly into Bertolt’s ear, almost inaudible. “Tell me how much you want to eat your own come.”

Right at that moment, Reiner gives a firm slip of his thumb over the head of Bertolt’s cock, and Bertolt makes a sound he’s never even heard come out of his own mouth before.

“Iwant to—” he hiccups, trying to spread his legs further apart, “to swallow my own come. _Fuck, Reiner..._ ” 

Reiner draws away to grab more lube, drizzling it over Bertolt’s cock, before stroking faster now.

“But you can’t come, can you, Bertl?”

“No!” Bertolt wails, his voice edged with desperate frustration. His legs are shaking, and his cock feels agonizingly heavy. His hips twitch pathetically, looking for something to fuck, and Reiner draws his hand away.

“Please,” he begs, panting, “please let me come.”

Reiner unfastens the restraints with deft, experienced fingers, and lets Bertolt free, but holds his wrists in place.

“First,” he says, reaching toward the box, “you’re going to fuck yourself and show me how much you want my cock.” He grabs a dildo out of the box, along with a condom. “You’re going to demonstrate for me, and then maybe, I’ll let you come.”

Bertolt is whining incoherently, and he shudders, nodding his head. “I’ll show you,” he gasps, numbly repeating Reiner’s words as if they’ll help him think straight.

Reiner gets the condom on the dildo and slicks it up helpfully, and Bertolt’s already stolen the lube and is desperately working his fingers into himself.

“Slow down, Bertl,” Reiner warns, his voice steadying.

Bertolt takes a breath and slows down, even if it is fractionally. He closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, and forces himself to go slow, playing with his ass. It helps when Reiner kisses at his collar bones, sucking another hickey there, and then he’s able to take his own fingers more easily.

“Okay,” he pants, and Reiner hands him the dildo.

He gives a soft gasp as the tip of the toy penetrates him, and then he focuses on relaxing. He’s going to need it if he’s going to take Reiner’s cock.

And then, Reiner’s fingers are back in his mouth. “Suck them while you fuck yourself,” comes the command, and even Reiner’s voice is gravelly now as he starts to lose his cool.

Bertolt obeys, rolling onto his side to make it easier as he slides the dildo in and out of himself, going deeper each time as he sucks on Reiner’s fingers desperately. 

“That’s it,” Reiner murmurs in approval. “Show me how you want me to fuck you.”

The note of approval in Reiner’s voice makes Bertolt shiver, and he fucks himself faster; the nipple clamps are agony as he shifts, and he revels in it.

Finally, he can’t take any more, and he eases off the dildo, sliding it out slowly.

“Need you,” he gasps around Reiner’s fingers. A line of saliva stays connected to Reiner’s fingers as he pulls his hand away, and then dribbles down Bertolt’s chin.

Reiner lies down on his back to let Bertolt control the pace, since he’s already been pushed to his limit once, and helps him to sit up since he’s shaky.

“You all right?”

Bertolt nods, feeling dazed, but he focuses on Reiner. “Uh huh,” he says dumbly.

Reiner slides a condom over his own cock and lubes up generously, and then Bertolt positions himself to slowly sit on Reiner’s cock.

His eyes roll back in his head as he feels Reiner slowly force him open; it’s a familiar feeling, and he feels like he might cry for a different reason. It’s a type of closeness that he can’t quite describe; they don’t always have anal sex, but Bertolt enjoys doing it when they do.

He slowly starts to roll his hips once Reiner’s all the way in, and the expression on Reiner’s face makes Bertolt’s cock ache agonizingly. 

“Fuck,” Bertolt gasps, starting to bounce up and down on Reiner’s cock. The jostling of his cock is painful with the ring still securely fastened and the torturous jingling of the nipple clamps, but he doesn’t care. 

Then, Reiner’s hands clamp down on his thighs, and he squeezes.

“Ride my cock like you mean it,” Reiner moans out. “Fuck yourself on it. Work for it—your only goal is to make me come.”

Bertolt whimpers and pumps his hips harder against Reiner. He’s going so hard at this point he’s almost afraid he’s going to break the bed or pop a spring in the mattress, but he knows Reiner’s close.

In a last ditch effort to make him come, Bertolt shifts his hips ever so slightly at an angle he knows Reiner loves, and then he’s rewarded with a hitch of breath and a painfully tight grip on his legs as Reiner orgasms.

“Bertl,” he groans out as he comes, his face going slack and his chin tipping back in that beautiful way Bertolt craves, “fuck, I love you, oh god...”

The last thing Bertolt remembers is climbing off Reiner, and then before he knows what’s happening, he’s been flipped onto his back, and he practically screams as the clamps are carefully but quickly removed.

Then, Reiner’s tongue is there, soothing the sore skin and finally, his cock is released from the ring.

All it takes is a few strokes, and he practically blacks out as he comes harder than he can recall in recent memory. His hips jerk and he lets out a sob as he comes in Reiner’s hand, riding the orgasm out like a violent wave, almost suffocating but perfect in a way he could never put into words.

Finally, it’s over, and he floats somewhere in a blissful, white ether.

And then Reiner’s there, he hears some shuffling around, and the sweet taste of sugar hits his taste buds.

“I’ve got you,” Reiner whispers soothingly, pulling Bertolt against him. “Ssh.”

“Um,” Bertolt slurs dumbly, chewing mechanically. There’s a soft blanket being wrapped around him, and then Reiner’s arms.

Reiner kisses his face, then his hand and fingers. “Love you, Bertl,” he murmurs tenderly, linking their fingers together.

“Mm, Reiner,” Bertolt hums, still dazed, “I don’t think I hate computers anymore.”

The last thing Bertolt is aware of is Reiner laughing, a gentle kiss pressed to his temple, and then only blissful sleep.


End file.
